Life after Budapest
by Leorocks5
Summary: "This is Budapest all over again!" "Then you and I remember Budapest very differently!" My take on Budapest and beyond. R&R!
1. Budapest

**hi, people of the world! This is my take on Budapest and afterwards. Enjoy!**

**disclaimer: I don't own anything exept my wonderful iPad**

* * *

Agent Clint Barton tuned out as he listened to Director Fury go over the plan... Again. For the thousandth time that day.  
Rolling his eyes, Clint focused on honing one of his knives to perfection, as he waited for his chance to jump in and cut Fury off.  
Not long after, he got it.  
"And remember-"  
"If you don't reply every 10-15 minutes, you'll bomb the place. I_ KNOW_. Seriously, how old am I, six?"  
Fury narrowed his eyes angrily, then stalked of, muttering about 'insolent agents who didn't know their place'.  
Phil Coulson, Clint's 'handler', leaned down.  
"You should not have done that, you know."  
He said softly. Coulson never raised his voice, not even when Clint messed up _big-time._  
"Fury's right. It is exceptionally important that you do answer us, so..."  
He trailed off.  
Clint restrained himself from rolling his eyes again, with difficulty.  
"So you know I'm still alive. Yeah, yeah, yeah Phil- I'm aware! We've only been over this- what? Ten million times? I know!"  
Phil rolled his eyes and stood up, ready to head towards the front.  
"Wheels down in 10. Get ready."  
"Phil?"  
"Yeah, Clint?"  
"Where are we?"  
"Budapest."  
Clint had not expected that.

* * *

Natalia Romanova stared at the computer screen.  
Her eyes flicked from camera feed to feed, searching for her target of the day.  
_There_.  
John Davies.  
He was a relatively rich man, but he had the bad habit of poking his long nose into other peoples business.  
At least, that was the information the Red Room had supplied her with.  
It was probably a lie, but since when had Natalia had a problem with that?  
Never.  
Which was why she was their little protégé, right?  
She decided to give him a couple of hours, and then go find him.  
Throw him off any trail he might be suspecting.  
She continued to watch for about half an hour, until her eyes caught.  
There...  
That man who had just entered the building, the one wearing all black...  
She'd definitely never seen him before.  
Who was he?  
He wasn't on any of the personal records the Red Room had supplied her with.  
She watched him for a little bit more, and then shrugged.  
Her kill list had just gotten somewhat... Longer.

* * *

Clint looked around the lobby of the fancy hotel Fury had told him to go to.  
The something dé là rosìér.  
Fancy, wasn't it?  
It had everything- from a glass chandelier to a crystal fountain spraying out front.  
And that was just the _lobby_.  
How was the Black Widow able to afford something like that?!  
Clint pressed two fingers to the com link in his ear.  
"What apartment, again, Fury?"  
He asked sweetly.  
He was still annoyed at Fury for treating him like a six year old.  
"Floor seven, apartment 13B. Go, Barton!"  
He sounded like he wanted to say more, but Clint rolled his eyes (he seemed to be doing that a lot today,) and shut off the earpiece.  
Then he turned, and headed for the stairs.

* * *

Natalia tracked the man in black **(A.N. haha, the princess bride, anyone?)** expertly as he headed for the stairs, taking them two or three at a time.  
She watched until he reached the 7th floor- Her floor!- and walked into the hallway.  
She barely had enough time to shut off her computer before there was a knock on the front door.  
She sashayed over to the door and pressed her ear against the hard wooden surface.  
"Is that my pizza?"  
She enquired in a soft, breathy voice that was not her own.  
"Yeah. Pizza delivery!"  
M-I-B answered immediately, lying through his teeth just as well as she did.  
"Well, then, c'mon in!"  
She purred, readying the two knives in her hand and opened the door...  
And the man lunged at her.

* * *

Clint lunged at the Black Widow's neck, hoping to kill her quickly.  
He could hear Phil screaming at him, but he ignored it as they fought brutally.  
Clint couldn't help but admire her- her fighting style was almost unmatchable.  
_Almost_.  
But Clint had the advantage of fighting for his life. He wasn't going down without a fight- a good one.  
He swept her legs out from under her and sat on her chest, then grunted as she used that to flip over and onto him, then used that motion to continue the roll until he came up on to, his knee at her neck. She glared at him, at the knife-point touching her neck.  
"Kill me, then."  
She spat at him.  
"Show me no mercy, as I would you."  
But Clint had seen something he hadn't expected in her eyes.  
Was that... _Fear_?  
Was the infamous Black Widow afraid... **_Of him?_**  
That did it.  
He got off her and offered her his hand.  
Warily, she took it.  
"I'm taking you in,"  
He told her.  
"Talent like yours shouldn't go to waste, especially when it can help others."  
Dimly, he remembered Coulson telling him the same thing, some five, six years ago...  
Suddenly he was snapped out of his thoughts as something behind them went **BOOOM**!

* * *

Natalia rolled under the table, pulling her captor in after her.  
She had the option of killing him, then and there, but...  
The offer he had made her, to leave the Red a Room, to help people instead of killing them... She had to admit, it was tempting.  
"We have to help them!"  
He gasped at her, and she narrowed her eyes as she looked over at him.  
"Who?"  
He looked like he was holding back an eye roll.  
"The people who live in this building, of course. Come on!"  
Then he ran for the stairs, stumbling over fallen rubble on his way.  
Rolling her eyes, Natalia ran after him.

* * *

Four hours and 420 people later, Natalia stared into the dingle dark eye of SHIELD director Nick Fury.  
"Natalia Romanova,"  
He addressed her,  
"You can either reject my offer and serve a life sentence several times over in jail for murder, or you can accept, and become a registered agent of SHIELD agency's. It's your choice to make."  
Natalia didn't even stop to think.  
"I accept."

* * *

**ANNNND... There's my take on what happened in Budapest!  
What do you guys think?  
The little blue button calls!  
REVIEW!**


	2. Choosing Natasha

**welcome, my friends!**

**this is Leo, the person who owns nothing.**

**enjoy!**

* * *

Natalia stared at herself in the mirror, tugging at her red hair with one hand.  
She didn't understand it.  
Why did she still feel like she belonged to the Red Room?  
Despite the new S.H.I.E.L.D catsuit, the new haircut, and the new weapons, she still felt... Owned.  
_Tainted_.  
What was it about her that made her feel like this?  
She definitely looked different.  
So why didn't she feel different?  
Her clothes were different.  
Her demeanor was.  
Her attitude was... Nearing different.  
But she just didn't feel it.  
Sighing, she gave up.  
What difference did wondering about it make, anyways?  
She stepped away from the mirror and headed towards the stairs.  
Maybe she could ask Barton to spar with her.  
Yes.  
She'd definitely go do that.  
Take her mind off things.  
If only she could figure out what those things were...  
No!  
She shook that thought from her head strongly.  
No dwelling on that any longer, she told herself, firm.  
Well the, she supposed she'd better go and get Barton.  
Without pausing, she turned and walked out the door.

* * *

"Come in!"  
Clint had been rummaging through his kitchen cabinets when he heard the knock.  
Coffee, coffee..  
Where'd he put the stuff?  
Coffee, coffee...  
Oh, _there_ it was.  
Without turning, he tried to place the footsteps.  
They were too light to be Fury...  
Too girlish and not business-like to be Coulson...  
Too wary to be Hill...  
Really, it could only be one other person.  
_**Too easy**_.  
He didn't need to turn.  
"Can I help you, Natalia?"

* * *

She couldn't help it.  
Just the mention of her name, the way he said it...  
It brought up old, forgotten memories.  
Igor Petrovitch*, the Red Room, watching those other girls die...  
And then, that final day.  
Before she'd escaped.  
'Могу ли я помочь вам, Наталья?'  
'_Can I help you, Natalia?'_  
She flinched and stumbled back, walls broken for a mili-second.  
Then she cleared her face and stood up straight.  
Posture perfect, as always.  
As if nothing had happened.  
But he had seen it.  
She saw it in his eyes.  
But she pretended she didn't.  
Even shrugged her shoulders, for emphasis.  
"Spar with me?"  
He thought for a moment, then grinned.  
The smile made his 5"12 body seem lit up.  
There was an inner child in him.  
She liked that, especially since she'd given up her own.  
She liked his answer, too.  
"Sure."

* * *

Clint may not have understood Natalia, but he had to admire her skill.  
Her fighting was like nothing he'd ever seen before- a combination of gymnastics and martial arts, a deadly dance.  
Like her.  
Beautiful, and yet so deadly.  
She was a master.  
And yet, he suspected she was still holding back.  
She'd fought harder in Budapest, that's for sure.  
Finally, he skidded to a stop, panting.  
"Wait."  
She stopped and stood from the crouched position she'd been in, one eyebrow raised.  
"Yes?"  
He felt stupid, but...  
"You're holding back, aren't you."  
It wasn't a question, but she nodded a little.  
"What are you afraid of?"  
She paused, considering the question.  
She looked as if she was about to throw up her guards, and yet... She seemed to tell the truth when she answered.  
"I don't know. Killing the man who vouched for getting me in here might cause a slight problem. Not to mention the fact that it would get me kicked out."  
She smirked at him then.  
Sarcasm... Man's (or woman's) defense against idiots.  
Did she think he was stupid?  
He couldn't have that.  
"Oh, it might be a problem, 'Talia. Not only would it get you into deep, deep, _deep_ trouble, you'd also be killed. Wouldn't want to risk a pretty face like yours, would we? Plus, if I got demoted for nothing..."  
He let that hang in the air, but she seemed as if she hadn't heard it.  
"What did you call me?"  
He thought for a second.  
"Talia. Why?"  
She flinched, again.  
"Don't call me that."  
"Why not?"  
"_Don't_ call me that. Or else."  
Now it was his turn to flinch.  
"Fine, fine... Nat."  
"Not that, either."  
He considered her for a moment. Did she really hate her name that much?  
"You know, if you really don't like your name, you could always change it."  
She stared at him.  
"What?"  
He shrugged.  
"Sure. Why not? Do really think Director Fury was born with such a fitting name? Everyone does it around here."  
She continued to stare at him, considering it.  
It might not help, but... Maybe it was a start.  
"Did you?"  
"Me?"  
He shrugged.  
"Nah. My name is perfecto, thank you very much."  
He struck such a hysterical pose, her walls faded slightly, and she giggled.  
He beamed in triumph.  
"Did I just get Natalia Romanova to laugh?"  
She smiled, and turned.  
"No. You just got Natasha Romanoff to laugh."  
She walked away, a smile on her face.  
"Natasha Romanoff. Yes, I like that."

* * *

**Btw, I totally made this all up. Sorry!**

**REVIEW!**


End file.
